


Dovahkiin Logs

by AvidDreamWriter



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: CW: mentions of PTSD, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:09:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvidDreamWriter/pseuds/AvidDreamWriter
Summary: A general summation of the adventures of Dovahkiin. Mostly centered around my own experiences and story within the world of Skyrim, written in a second person format without pronouns to try and generalize the adventures of... Dovahkiin.





	Dovahkiin Logs

**Author's Note:**

> Tags are made for current content, and will be added as necessary for later content. I hope to make this a kind of revival story for my account. It has been literal years since I have written anything, so I am very excited to be posting something.

Less than 48 hours ago, you were just a prisoner at Helgen, barely remembering your own name and having no idea where you were or why you were there. You came to with a fellow prisoner apologizing for some reason; he put off the air of having been an important person for something… A rebellion of some kind? You really didn’t have the chance to make sense of it all when the entire execution proceedings were interrupted by a dragon attack. Still shackled, you ran for your life with the other prisoners, far far away from the disaster that was (as you found out later) known as Helgen. You had a feeling that you were in for the adventure of your life, and you would turn out to be correct in the future.

You were hailed as dragonborn by the people who were at Helgen, and soon called to High Hrothgar to speak with the Greybeards, who also hailed you as dragonborn. You had no idea what was going on or what that truly meant, but you continued onwards with your life of mission after mission. A nomadic life seemed to suit you, you thought, as you rest your head at inn after inn, sometimes in random tents that were scattered about the land. You’d traveled over half the land of Skyrim, fought in a civil war, and caused the end of entire families before you decided to finally try to get a spot to settle in.

It took some time, but you became a thane of Falkreath, and thusly bought some property further up the mountainside. A quaint little plot that you started to build on, with some help from books and the smith nearby. It was a small start, barely big enough for yourself and your gear, but it was home. Besides, you could expand it later on if you really wanted to. You had plenty of space to build a manor there, but there was not much reason to, as you were not planning on having any sort of companionship to settle with. A spouse, to say. The thought never crossed your mind in your adventures around the land.

That’s not to say that you didn’t have travelling companions. The first by your side was Serana, a seemingly young vampire who you rescued from some deep ruins. That was some old magic at work that kept her sealed where she was. You felt pity for the poor woman as you questioned her, trying to figure out what went on to put her in that situation. She didn’t entirely trust you, and made that quite clear, requesting to only speak further on the matter when the two of you finally reached Castle Volkihar. That was quite a trip, to say. You hadn’t been there before, and not many people knew its whereabouts, nor did they want to travel anywhere near it. They were scared of the vampires, but you weren’t. By this point, you’d faced Daedric princes and spat in their faces. Although, you thought to yourself, you probably should stop scorning them like that or it’ll bite your ass in Sovengarde. Or wherever you may go when you finally die.

Perhaps the first time you were truly unnerved by anything in your adventures was when you and Serana trekked into and through the Soul Cairn on a mission to find her mother. It was an eerie, soul draining place, and you wouldn’t want to go there again if you could prevent it. If anybody asked you, the only good thing to come out of it was Durnheviir, a dragon who simply requested to be summoned to the skies once you returned to the mortal plane, as he missed flying them. In exchange, he taught you a rather useful shout that you became fond of when you went into the old Nord tombs.  
Your adventure with Serana ended with the two of you killing her father, Lord Harkon, preventing the world from being sent into darkness. She and the other vampires of the castle seemed to be grateful, although she was sad. You pulled her aside privately later that night, asking her what was on her mind. She told you that she mourned the loss of her father, though not at the state he was in, for the loss she had of him hundreds of years ago. You listened to her stories well past dawn, the two of you finally resting in the castle somewhere around nine in the morning, and not waking up until that evening. Serana approached you first after you’d fed, asking if she could accompany you on your travels, adding that she wouldn’t be offended if you said no, and that she’d be in the castle if you needed her for any reason. You accepted her offer, and set out that night for your first adventure as a duo.

While traveling with Serana, there were days that you just couldn’t sleep. You’d rent out tavern rooms for the both of you and bid her a good night, but you’d sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. Neither Serana or Harkon explicitly mentioned anything about vampirism affecting your ability to sleep in a bed (or lack thereof), but you doubted you’d be able to sleep even if you weren’t a vampire. Memories of the things you’d done and seen, of friends who were killed in a way you could have prevented flooded your mind some nights. It was almost akin to a nightmare, except you were completely awake and were positive a daedric prince wasn’t fucking with you. It was odd to experience, and one time you couldn’t get to sleep for four days before you finally collapsed out in the middle of a roadway.

When you’d awoken again, you were… Well, you didn’t know where you were, but you did know that you were in a bed, and you felt Serana’s presence nearby. She was seated on one of the chairs in the room, eyes closed. You couldn’t tell if she was asleep or just meditating, so you slowly sat up on the bed. Almost as if you were a bit too loud, Serana got up from the chair and passed you a few blood potions, telling you that you’d been out for a couple days and that these would be useful to sate the hunger. She left you to get ready in privacy, waiting for you downstairs before the two of you headed out on your next adventure.

It was about a month later and one too many close calls that you decided it was time to part ways. Serana seemed very upset about the idea, and you felt your heart twinge a little (love? Did you love this vampire woman?), but you insisted it was for her own safety that you separated your adventures. You couldn’t risk losing another valuable friend. Immortality didn’t mean invulnerability, and the thought of Serana dying in any form scared you. You, the dragonborn, scorner of daedric princes, scared of losing a friend. Death wasn’t supposed to scare you, and yet here you were, turning your back on castle Volkihar with the promise that you’d visit again, and often (part of you was hoping to change the conditions around there, but you doubted it). You did, however, manage to convince a chain of couriers to deliver letters for you once every few weeks… or so you hoped they made it to the castle. You’d told them you would be satisfied if they were left with the door guard. But you had received letters back from Serana, so it seemed the deal was working well enough. Sending letters back and forth set your mind at ease, and you would still drop by for a visit, gods permitting you weren’t cave diving into the next dwemer ruin for some bullshit reason like you had a death wish.


End file.
